Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Tome
by Fellgrave
Summary: Harry Potter is a wizard, at least according to most. But what if he wasn't? What if, when he was young, he was given a book that opened his eyes to an entire new universe of possibilities. Fellgrave productions present the first, of my knowledge, true to D&D form, Sorcerer Harry. Edit: Slight Changes to Chap 2.
1. Chapter 1

*Facepalms* GOD-DAMMIT, NOT AGAIN! I swore I would never write for this particular series, swore it to high-heaven and then I find one single crossover... For what seems to be the umpteenth time, I have started another new stor**_y_**, and in doing so, have hit another major fandom. I think that with this one I will have hit every major fandom, even Twilight with the technical cameo of it in my Bet fic. But yeah, Ranma, Sailor Moon, Nar**_u_**to, Bleach, Buffy, NGE, and a few lesser ones. I mean, I just can't seem to leave well enough alone. Hell, I even dabbled a bit in**_ K_**P at one point( and **_I_** will eventually post that in a junk file)!

What I'm trying t**_o_** say is, I seem to have a slight problem with keeping away from i**_n_**teresting stories, which mea**_n_**s th**_a_**t things slow down as I'm reading fanfics, because they give so many ideas for my own, even when I don't write in that fandom. And eventually, well, this happens. So my apologies to my devout followers for starting yet another fanfiction in yet another fandom.

Leaving that aside, this is a story of Harry Potter. This Harry Potter will not be the same as what you have seen from him before, I hope. In this case, young Harry Potter stumbled upon a quaint little section of the library one dreary evening, and low and behold, found within it inspiration. So tell me, what do you think would happen if a young magical boy found a copy of the Dungeons and Dragons Player's Handbook?

This fic is inspired in part by the absolutely stellar story, Of Wands and Kunai, a HP Naruto crossover by Womgi, as well as numerous others. Womgi was also kind enough to let me use the name of his librarian for here as well. There is also a plot point idea that was also inspired by another HP fic I have read, though it won't show up until later, and I won't tell you which one it is. If you really want to find it, I left some clues to the identity of the fic in the top two paragraphs of this AN. The aspect in particular is not one unique to that story in particular, but I certainly found it to be the best example of what I'm planning. Just don't post it in a review please, I want it to be a surprise for people.

* * *

_Where is it written, that all our dreams must be small?_

* * *

For the first time in, well, ever, Harry Potter possessed something he was more than proud to call his own. It had been the eve of his seventh birthday, and as was all too common, his Uncle had ever so kindly removed him from the house. He never called Number Four Privet Drive his home, because based on everything he had learned in school and in books, a home was somewhere you'd go where you felt safe and loved, neither of which could be attributed to his current place of residence.

That aside, Harry had taken refuge in his usual hiding spot, a location that his cousin Dudley and his gang of thugs would never think to look- the library. The librarian was a nice old man by the name of Daniel Richards. A Veteran of the Second Great War, he was always ready with a tale of his adventures, or legends from the places he had visited. It was his story-telling that had drawn Harry's interest.

Harry had instantly become enamored with the panoramic vistas that enfolded within his mind's eye; the far away exotic realms of India, or the deep, dark forests of Germany. Whenever Harry was alone within his 'room', he could simply lean back and let his mind wander, free from the chains that so bound his earthly form.

The old man, as he was affectionately referred to by the children, had also become quite taken with the quiet and polite Harry. Having spent so much of his younger days traveling through foreign and hostile lands, Daniel had become well-versed in reading people through their eyes and the motions of their bodies Watching Harry, Danial could tell that some dark cloud always seemed to follow him; except for when he was in the library or listening to Daniel speak of one thing or another.

As Harry came in, far more depressed than usual, Daniel decided to do something nice for his silent little listener. As the library was closing for the night, Daniel put a hand on Harry's shoulder and kept him back until everyone else had left. With a wide smile on his face, Daniel led Harry over to the counter, where he pulled out a small cardboard box. To Harry's shock, he was handed the box with a quiet, "Happy Birthday", before being sent on his way.

Harry was almost bouncing with excitement and curiosity, only his cynical thoughts about how his relatives would act if he came into the house with whatever he had been given keeping him from tearing open the box right there in the streets. Instead, Harry found a small spot near the back porch under a bush that he could hide the box until later.

As quietly as he could, he snuck back inside, unsurprised to find his Uncle waiting for him. He grit his teeth and found an escape with thoughts of what Daniel might have given him as his Uncle launched into one of his all too common verbal tirades. Soon enough it was over and Harry was let go to make dinner for the Dursleys before he was sent to bed.

Harry waited until it was well into the night, long after his relatives had all fallen asleep, before he carefully and quietly popped the latch on the cupboard door with a bent wire hanger. He had often seen the trick used by one of the older boys who used to live on his street, at least he had before the boy got caught driving a stolen car.

As he quietly crept out from the cupboard, glad that he had the foresight to keep the hinges well-oiled from when he ran over the rest of the doors in the house, he gave the stairs a wary look; and though the lights were all off, his body remained tense, his more cynical side warning him that the moment he thought he was in the clear things would begin to go wrong.

As silently as was possible, Harry moved over to the front door and slid the bolts back, casting one last nervous glance towards the stairs before he opened the door and slid outside. The air outside was cold, far cooler than Harry was used to on a midsummer's night, but not cold enough for him to retreat back within the house for more clothing.

It was well past midnight and the streets of Little Whinging were empty, not even the occasional siren of an emergency vehicle - all too common to any town larger than a village - breaking the still silence. Harry felt a chill run down his spine at the foreboding lack of noise, something deep within him screaming at him to return to his little cupboard under the stairs, to forget Daniel's gift and go back to his familiar, peaceful life.

That thought brought Harry up short; since when had he ever considered his life peaceful. As he focused on the thought, the strange feeling he had been having slowly dimmed, until it vanished completely, taking with it the reservations Harry had towards what he was doing. Harry shrugged the oddness away, it wasn't the first time something strange had occurred in his life, the time when he picked up a torn piece of paper off the ground, only to open his hand and find that it was actually a brand-new five pound note coming to the forefront of his mind. (1)

With a surprising grace for those familiar with him, Harry weaved his way through the yard while staying close to the ground, freezing in place at one point when the lights came on for a moment in Mrs. Figg's house. He stayed locked in position as he stared at the light until it was turned off again. He almost sighed in relief but caught himself at the last moment, as making any sound might attract unwanted attention, no matter how quiet.

The box was exactly where he had left it, and though it weighed more than Harry was used to carrying, he did his best to ignore the weight as he carried it back inside. He set it down for a moment to lock the front door after he had closed it again, before he took the box with him into his cupboard, which he didn't bother to lock; after all, he was expected to be up early in the morning to make breakfast, and the Dursleys neglected to lock him in most nights for that very reason.

With an almost reckless abandon Harry tore into the box, quietly slicing apart the tape that held it closed with a steak knife he had liberated from the kitchen drawers, its absence likely to go unnoticed as he was the one relegated to taking of cleaning all the dishes and cutlery after meals. Once the tape was out of the way, he peeled back the cardboard and began to pull out the books inside, carefully hiding them in a small hidden niche he had discovered behind one of the walls of the cupboard.

Once the books were all secreted away, he pulled out one of them to read, the light provided by a small candle that he had swiped when he had been cleaning the garage. _Dungeons and Dragons: Player's Handbook, Revised Third Edition. _The somewhat unfamiliar words stood out on the cover of the book, and Harry eagerly opened it, curious as to its contents. His eyes lit up with joy as he let himself be transported to a world of mystical creatures and incredible adventurers.

* * *

Over the next couple of months, Harry spent every spare moment of his time reading through the various books he had been given, spending a very large portion of his time on the books related to the spell-caster classes. A part of his interest was pure escapism, the possibilities he could see if magic actually existed easily caught his attention. The other part, on the other hand, was driven by more important issues; namely, his need to understand things that seemed to happen around him.

A few days after he had returned to school, far more eagerly than his cousin, he, like the rest of the class, had been in the middle of trying not to fall asleep while they listened to their boring English teacher. For fun, and to keep his mind active, Harry had taken to imagining Mr. Norwin with various different colours of hair. He had just been running through the various shades of blue when something caused the other students in the class to sit straight at attention. when Harry had looked around he couldn't find anything out of the ordinary, so he turned his eyes back to his teacher to resume his mental game, only to have his jaw fall slack as he saw that Mr. Norwin's hair had taken on a particularly obnoxious shade of light baby blue.

Class had quickly been dismissed and, as it was the last one of the day, everyone had promptly gone home. Harry stuck around for a bit until he was sure that Dudley and his little pack of friends had gone home, as ever since Mr. Norwin's hair had changed colour, Dudley had been sending Harry unusually dark looks, and from the way he had been talking to Piers next to him, Harry was sure that things wouldn't end well if they came across each other.

Upon arriving back at Number Four Privet Drive, Harry was greeted by his uncle, furious and red in the face, as well as the back of his uncle's hand. Whatever it was he had done, his uncle spewing something about his 'freakishness', he simply endured his uncle's anger, which seemed to be spent quickly, as his uncle only took a couple more swings at him before he was grabbed by the scruff of his neck and tossed into the cupboard, to nurse his wounds in silence.

Curious, and with little else to do with his time, Harry had delved into his collection of books. When he found what he was looking for, he nearly dropped the book in shock. _Mutari cameleon, _the change of the chameleon, at least according to the book, a minor cantrip designed for a prank, it temporarily enacted a change on another person's physical extremity, generally the hair or clothing.

With a renewed intensity that would have sent his relatives into an apoplectic fit, Harry dove back into the books, paying even more attention to the sections devoted magic, its uses, and its users. All of the books agreed on one fact, that magic was driven by will. Everything you wanted to do with magic require the caster's will to make happen, from the smallest things like lighting a candle, to the largest sweeping changes like raising islands from the sea.

Harry studied the various classes of spell-casters, curious as to which one he might possibly belong. He could rule out alchemists and warlocks right off the bat, he had not used any chemical compounds or elixirs to produce the changes, nor had he made any pacts with any devils or fey. He certainly wasn't a runemaster or shaman, as he found the runes to be about as easy to understand as Chinese algebra, and no spirit had ever dignified himself with its presence, at least to his knowledge.

So he was left with three options; he was either a wizard, a Wu Jen, or a sorcerer. It was unlikely that he was a Wu Jen, as they normally leaned towards elemental magics, as well as being notoriously closed lipped about their secrets and common only to the Orient. He also doubted that he was a wizard. According to his books, a wizard's skill came from long hours spent practicing and poring over ancient tomes of magic, something that he had never done.

Which left only the one possibility for his type of magic; the sorcerer. Pure talent in magic, directed entirely by the sorcerer's will. According to the book, the source of a sorcerer's talent often lay with hidden within his own blood, an distant ancestor possibly a creature or being of great power that taken human form for a period of time, enough to have children to carry on its legacy.

Eager to see if he did in fact possess the gift of magic, Harry searched through the books for another simple - or at least as simple as magic could possibly be - spell to try out. _Temporalis Perceptio, _temporal perception, a spell that allowed its caster to perceive the passing of time. An easy enough spell, consisting of the two words in Latin combined with the motion of tapping at the wrist.

Harry grinned widely as he muttered the incantation under his breath. To his shock his mind suddenly exploded with a line of numbers, not just the current date, but the time down to mere fraction of a millisecond. When the numbers vanished from his mind, Harry rocked back and let out a sigh. According to the book he picked the spell out of, being able to distinguish that much detail required the caster to have either massive amounts of skill, or massive amounts of power.

With a joy he hadn't felt in a long time, he dug into the books, searching for subtle spells he could use to finally get back at his relatives. Over the next few years, Harry would constantly practice the spells within the books he had been given, as well as any more he could get his hands on. He had devoured books on ancient mythology as sources for possible ideas, the mythologies of the Norse and Celts particular favourites of his, especially the various adventures of Loki.

With the tales of various tricksters of mythology in mind, as both guides and warnings, Harry set himself to frustrating his relatives as much as possible without revealing his own involvement. He had arranged for the traffic lights to make his Uncle as late as possible for his job, as well as to turn green at just the right time for a car to pass by and splash mud on one of the Dursleys when it was raining.

He had also taken to having the various flowers in the garden change colour from day to day. He had made sure that to clip off and preserve the black rose he had made one time, as he had to admit it looked quite beautiful. One of the more irritating things he did, though it was only after he had been shaved bald one night and woken up to find his hair returned to normal, was to change his appearance in subtle ways everyday. One morning his hair might be a pure black, the next it might have a hint of blue or green, and once he had even gone pure white, though that had earned him a long period of time in the cupboard.

The cupboard below the stairs was another thing that Harry had changed. With a little guidance from his books, and a quick slice across his palm to provide the necessary catalyst, he had turned his 'room' into an impromptu Sorcerer's Sanctum Sanctorum. Unlike a more advanced version, which required a much longer ritual and a purpose-built room or building, his Sanctum possessed only minor traits, such as being a far bit larger than should be possible, as well as being protected against intruders.

One of the things Harry had taken note of within the books was the fact that nearly all of them carried numerous warnings about leaving a spellcaster unprotected in combat, as all it took was a single well placed sword-blow or shot from an arrow to render him either too wounded to properly concentrate on his spells, or dead. Too avoid this, and because he was tired of the way Dudley and his gang would muscle him around, he had turned a section of his Sanctum into a gym, working out there every evening before bed and every morning before he made breakfast. With the aid of magic he was able to complete his chores much faster than before, and he often used the time that he would have otherwise spent outside gardening to take a run around the neighborhood.

It hadn't taken long for Harry to earn a reputation for himself as both being bright for his age and being exceptionally strong and kind. The first he had been earned rather easily, it had simply taken him changing around his studying habits, aided by the fact that he had more time to himself every day, but the second had taken a bit more effort.

* * *

It had been a cold, windy day in September, Harry had just turned ten earlier that summer,and the entire school had been let out for lunch and, as was usually the case, Dudley and his thugs and gone out looking for easy and profitable marks. It was pure serendipity that Harry had decided to take his lunch under neath the tree on the far side of the school yard, where he had a full view of the small gap that ran between the gym and the main school building. Other students would later swear that they had heard the sound of thunder crashing as Harry rocketed to his feet and strode towards the gap where Dudley and his brutes had cornered a pair of girls Harry's age.

The four boys seemed either unaware of uncaring of the fact that Harry stalked towards them. If they had taken a moment to turn and look into his eyes, they might have taken the hint and fled for all they were worth, for within Harry's eyes burned a cold and furious light. Before the thugs could notice him, Harry kicked the nearest boy in the back of the knee, his palm shooting forwards to smash the boys face into the nearby wall as he began to collapse over his weakened leg.

Now they noticed Harry, though they still failed to take him seriously, simply believing that it had been the luck of the weak that their friend had been taken out. The first boy to move towards Harry was Piers' buddy, the boy roaring as he charged forwards with his arms out wide to grab Harry in a bone-crushing hold. Against an unprepared schoolboy, the attack would have likely succeeded, the intimidating sight and sound of the roaring charge likely freezing the target in place in fear or shock. But Harry was not an unprepared schoolboy, and with an ease that would forever earn him his name spoken in hushed whispers, he stepped forwards into the thug's reached and pivoted on his left leg as he stepped forwards with his right, his elbow coming up to slam into the boys chin with a resounding crack.

Harry never stopped moving though, he simply stepped around the falling boy, unconscious and with a shattered jaw, and advanced on the terrified pair of Dudley and Piers, the boys' former targets having quietly watched with awe as their knight in shining armour arrived and rescued them from their attackers. As Piers' nerve broke under Harry's unflinchingly cold gaze, he slowly took a step backwards, before he turned to run away, only to trip over an outstretched leg.

Dudley began to turn to see what had caused his friend to shout in surprise, and in doing so left a huge opening that Harry was all too glad too exploit. The moment Dudley had turned partway around his eyes caught sight of Harry beginning to dart forwards and his eyes grew wide as he realized the magnitude of his error. One of Harry's hands snaked forwards and grabbed Dudley's wrist in a viper grip, the other exploding out in a palm strike that smashed through Dudley's elbow.

Before the rather large boy had time to make an exclamation of pain, Harry's hand wrapped around his throat as he was flung bodily against the wall, Harry holding him high enough that his feet failed to touch the ground as they feebly kicked at the air. His good arm ineffectively beat at the hand that was pinning him against his will, only to freeze in his struggles as his cousin leaned closer until they were nearly nose to nose, and for the first time that day, Dudley looked into Harry's eyes.

The sheer terror the boy felt as he stared into the chips of burning green ice caused him to void his bladder. Harry's eyes flicked down momentarily to the spreading wetness on the front of Dudley's pants before they returned dispassionately to Dudley's eyes. Harry's voice was cold enough to send shivers of terror down Dudley's spine as Harry hissed into his ear.

"If I _ever _catch you bullying someone weaker than you, I will personally see to it that you eat the rest of your meals for the next year through a straw. _Am I understood?_" Dudley would have fallen over himself in his rush to nod his understanding had he not still been held against the wall by Harry's hand. With a low growl Harry released Dudley as he took a step back, the boy dropping to the ground and scrambling around for a moment before he managed to get to his feet.

Dudley opened his mouth to try and find some words he could say that would salvage the torn shreds of pride and dignity, only to shut it again a moment later with an audible click, as Harry fixed a hard glare on him. The large boy's eyes danced nervously around the tight confines between the two buildings, his instincts screaming at him to flee. Harry took a single half-step towards Dudley and the boy's composure broke, the boy running as fast as his thick legs could carry him.

As Harry watched Dudley's back heading towards the school nurse, he let himself smile for the first time that day. He knew that he was in for an incredible amount of trouble, both from the school's teachers and administration as well as his relatives, but seeing his cousin casting terrified looks back at him as he ran away made it more than worth it in his mind.

Harry turned and gave the two girls a warm smile as he checked to make sure they looked unhurt before he left to face the music. Surprisingly enough, Harry didn't get in nearly as much trouble from the school as he had been expecting. One of his teachers had been on lunch duty and had caught the whole thing, and had been about to break things up when Harry hit with all the impact of the furious fist of God. The teacher had spoken out on Harry's behalf, as well as the girls and other students who had been earlier victims of Dudley and his friends' predations, and though he received a large number of after-school detentions, the school board had been impressed by his integrity and had let him go without a suspension or expulsion.

Best of all, in Harry's mind, was the fact that both Dudley and the school had told the elder Dursleys what had happened, with additional evidence via a video tape recorded by another student who had brought his parent's new camera to show to his friends. And while the Durlseys swore up and down that they would punish their boy, in addition to the lengthy suspension he and his friends had received for their bullying, they had directed most of their anger towards Harry. At least, they had until he threatened them with a refusal to do any of his chores, including cooking.

It had taken the Dursleys a week to realize that Harry was more than willing to carry out his threat for as long as he was mistreated, the first couple of days Harry having been 'locked' within his Sanctum, which contained its own small kitchen and refrigerator. Harry was more than happy to cook his own delicious breakfast the actual ingredients bought with money earned from doing odd jobs and yard work around the neighborhood, and then go outside to watch the Dursleys try to stomach Aunt Petunia's cooking.

After the hasenpfeffer debacle they had quickly and quietly folded like a bad hand of cards. With the leeway he was granted by the family, against their will, as they saw fit to remind Harry of on a daily basis, he was able to get much more time to himself, instead of spending it on whatever tasks they devised to keep him busy. Unfortunately, he had hit a roadblock with his magical research, as more of the stronger or more esoteric spells and rituals required materials he had no access to.

To keep himself distracted from his current dead-ends, Harry amused himself with thoughts and plans for what he would do once he could finally leave the Dursleys' house. Unknown to him, that future was coming far sooner that he would have ever dreamed. The Wizard world was on a collision course with an individual that would shake their society to its very core, and not a single person was aware of that fact. All it would take, to send the everything over the edge, was a single letter.

* * *

It was Sunday afternoon, and the Dursleys had fled the house, 'to visit Dudley's Aunt Marge', or so they told Harry. Personally, he was reasonably sure that they had left just to avoid being near him on his birthday. He didn't begrudge them their cowardice, he preferred them to be away from himself as much as possible, and he found his birthdays to be the perfect days on which he could relax. The sound of a quiet knocking on the front door was the first sign that the day was going to be different, Harry getting up from his spot on the couch in front of the TV, a thoughtful look on his face as he walked over to the door.

He carefully pulled it open, only cock his brow in confusion when he saw the rather stately looking woman standing on the porch, dressed in, of all the curious things, a fine set of robes and a rather stereo-typical witches hat atop her head, a brow of her own cocked in curiosity. She gave him a quick look up and down, taking in the black shirt, drawn tight over his muscles, his body without the fat a child his age would normally have due to the lack of food in his earlier years, and the plain pair of jeans he had on; her eyes lingering on his scar for a moment longer than the rest of him, before she inclined her head slightly towards him.

"Mr. Potter, I presume? My name is Professor McGonagall, and if you would allow me inside, I have something rather important to discuss with you." Harry debated on whether or not to let her in for a moment before he opened the door and stood to the side as she entered the house. After all, if she tried anything, he could always use his magic against her, though he really didn't want anyone to know about it.

Harry quietly closed the door and led the professor into the main room, flicking off the tv before he offered her a seat, which she refused with a kind smile. So far she had been quite impressed with the rather polite young man, so much unlike his energetic father, though that was only to be expected considering his mother's calm nature. She would have to thank Hagrid for letting her be the one to meet the boy for the first time, no matter what Dumbledore might have thought on the matter, the boy had been raised among muggles and as such would need a more gentle introduction into the magical world than what Hagrid could provide. That and the fact Hagrid had accidentally gotten poisoned while handling a rare Tibetan Crystal Scorpion had played no small part in her presence.

"Tell me Mr. Potter, do you believe in magic?"Harry immediately schooled his face into a look of amused disbelief, something he had picked up from watching children speak to their parents about magic and other such things. McGonagall gave a thoughtful nod at his reaction as she calmly withdrew a stick from the sleeve of her dress. Harry eyed the stick with confusion, until McGonagall gave it wave and the coffee table in front of the tv turned into a stone gargoyle.

Harry gave a surprised start as he let himself fall backwards onto the couch. McGonagall smiled, the reaction close to what she was expecting from a muggle-raised magical child, though she still thought that Harry would have been better served by being allowed to live with the family of one of his parents' friends. Although, she did have to admit that Harry appeared to have done very well for himself, and seemed much more fit than any child she had seen raised in a magical household, a few exceptions aside.

"As you can clearly see, magic is quite real, and you my dear, are a wizard." Harry blinked in surprise from his position on the couch. Forgetting himself for a moment, he couldn't help the snort of derision that escaped him, much to McGonagall's confusion. He cracked his neck as he sat up straight, his face having settled into a much more serious expression.

"Actually Professor, that's not entirely accurate." At her raised brow he gestured towards the gargoyle and returned it back into a coffee table with a twitch of his wrist. As he eased back into the couch, he felt an amused sense of triumph bubble up as he took in the stunned look on the much older woman's face. "From what I know, a wizard is one who has studied the arcane for many years before being able to successfully use magic. I, or so I am led to believe and have not been given reason not to do so as of yet, am a sorcerer, and magic flows through my veins as well as my blood."

As McGonagall digested Harry's words, a little speech he had been waiting to use for a long time, Harry quietly conjured a pot of tea and a couple of china cups. Wordlessly, he poured some tea into both cups before offering one to a grateful McGonagall. She absently took a sip of the steaming tea, the flavour and feel of the hot tea bringing her back to her senses.

"Ah, I must apologize for my behaviour Mr. Potter, but I have never before seen such a complex transfiguration done without a wand. I believe you mentioned something about not being a wizard however?"

Harry nodded as he set his cup of tea down on the coffee table. "Well, according to what I've read, I fall into a different category from wizards, alchemists, and the like. They all need either implements or compounds and such to work their magic, while I simply need to will it to happen. From your surprise I take it my talent is highly unusual?"

"Unusual is quite the understatement Mr. Potter. Wandless magic is usually something that is limited to a very few magical races, and even then it is generally much less powerful than any magic worked by a wizard. There are a few wizards who can perform wandless magic themselves, but they are exceptions in an exceptional society. I would think it to be a great honour for you to attend Hogwarts, for the school itself, as to have such an incredible young man like yourself would certainly be something unique."

Harry nodded thoughtfully, it certainly seemed to be a beneficial option for him, not only would it get him away from the Dursleys, but he would finally be able to be among other magic users, something that he considered to be quite the rarity. He still had a few questions that he needed answered before he could properly decide however.

"So, if I decide to attend, when will school begin and end, and will I be staying on school grounds or somewhere nearby?" McGonagall raised a brow in impressed surprise, as most students who were muggle raised, and even those from magical families, focused more on the magic aspect of the school and what 'cool' and 'awesome' things they might learn there.

"For the duration of your attendance, which begins a day before and ends a day after the muggle school year, you will be given a dorm room in the school which will be shared with the other schoolmates of your year. Transportation will be arranged, via rail from King's Cross station." Harry gave her a curious look.

"By train? What, are the dragons too expensive?" He began to chuckle, only to turn to coughing under the Professor's disapproving glare.

"Quite, and the fact that dragons have proven most, disagreeable, when people have taken it upon themselves in the past to try and ride them, most often at the goading of their none-too-sober compatriots; I believe that the train is a perfectly acceptable form of transportation, unless you would care to disagree with me?" Harry shook his head rapidly in the negative, much to McGonagall's amusement.

"Good. Now then, if you don't mind, would care to join me in shopping for your school supplies? It is usually the teacher's duty to make sure that their non-magically raised students are properly equipped for the school year. In your case I don't believe I shall need to look over your shoulder as much as I must with the other first years, so I shall simply show you where to go once we arrive, is that an acceptable arrangement?"

Harry smiled as he nodded his appreciation, happy to be dealing with someone who treated him as a person of intelligence, instead of looking only at his physical age. McGonagall too was glad to be dealing with someone both smarter and magnitudes more mature than the children she usually dealt with.

As the two walked towards the door, McGonagall pulled out a small folded letter from within her sleaves that she handed to Harry, who took it with a bit of curiosity. Unfolding it, he read it through once, before he gave McGonagall another nod as he slipped it into his own pocket. As they passed by the door to Harry's room, he paused to grab a small headband from within, McGonagall giving him an impressed nod as he tied around his forehead to cover his scar.

Once Harry had closed and locked the front door, his uncle having his own key, McGonagall put a hand on Harry's arm, and his mouth began to open in question, but the words went unspoken as he experienced the strange sensation of being forced through a tube.

* * *

Harry stumbled forwards, one hand put out in front of him to steady his balance as he reoriented himself, his eyes blinking rapidly as he tried to focus his bleary vision on his surroundings. He straightened up and felt his around his eyes for his glasses, unsurprised to find them missing, as his vision had failed to resolve itself into clear images. He grimaced as he reached into his pocket and retrieved a backup pair of glasses.

Putting them on, he gave his surroundings a quick but searching look over, his eyes picking out the small inconsistencies that most people would fail to notice. The sign hanging outside the door labeled the establishment as the Leaky Cauldron, the slight traces of magical energy that traced patterns over the wood and windows a sign of the pub's true nature, though the depth of what that true nature fully meant was still a mystery to Harry.

McGonagall quietly walked past him without a word, Harry gave his head a shake before he fell into step behind her. Upon entering the pub, Harry had to pause at the doorway for a moment, his eyes having to adjust themselves for the dim lighting within. He wasn't too surprised to find the pub filled with the people who usually gathered in such a place, the hardworking men and woman who had recently come off their respective shifts, as well as some older patrons, whose age seemed to Harry more than enough for them to be retired.

With a quick muttered word to the barkeep, McGonagall led Harry past the bar, the patrons giving him brief looks of interest before returning to their drinks. As Harry headed out the door, he turned back for a moment, his eyes scanning the crowd for the source of the strange, almost buzzing sensation he was feeling. Most of the various patrons in the pub had returned to their respective conversations and drinks, save for the man wearing a purple turban, who quickly looked away as Harry turned around.

Harry shrugged as he hurried to catch up with McGonagall before she got too far ahead of him, as the man with the turban hardly seemed to be threatening, considering the way he seemed to be quivering into his mug. Thankfully, McGonagall hadn't gotten very far and Harry managed to come up beside her just she finished tapping a brick wall with her wand.

Impressed and surprised, Harry watched carefully as the bricks slowly peeled themselves away to form an opening to the bustling street beyond. As Harry passed through the archway, he turned to watch it close up behind him, carefully studying the mixture of animation, warding, and construction that comprised the magical wall. As he observed, he casually broke down the magic into its base component elements.

_'Hmm, earth magic as the base, not too surprising considering its made of stone.' _He leaned forwards too more closely watch one of the bricks slide back into place. '_Well, that's surprising. Though I suppose water magic makes sense, given the necessary fluidity. And a bit of air magic as well, too lighten the bricks and keep them from falling to the ground when removed. Impressive.'_

A loud cough brought him out of his thoughts. Blushing, he turned to find McGonagall staring at him, one eyebrow quirked upwards in amusement. "If you don't mind Mr. Potter, we have many places to be, and quite a short time to visit them all. Now, follow closely please, we need to retrieve some money for your supplies."

McGonagall deftly lead Harry through the throngs of busy shoppers until they reached a tall, rather imposing looking white building. Harry took a moment to study it, making note of the two black armoured guards near the door, before hustling inside before McGonagall could call him out on his distraction again. Once inside, McGonagall paused for a moment to sweep her eyes across the room, before they settled on an open teller near far wall.

Harry hung back as McGonagall began speaking to the bank teller. Harry's first thought of the creature beyond the counter was something along the lines of how incredibly unattractive it was. His next thoughts though, were directed towards identifying the actual species in question. By the time McGonagall had finished discussing matters with the teller, Harry had narrowed the options down to the creature either being a goblin, or a really, really ugly gnome.

"Mr. Potter," McGonagall's voice once again snapped him out of his train of thought as he gently took a step forwards. "I'm afraid that this is where we shall part ways, at least for the time being. Unfortunately, the Headmaster has need of a few items that I have to pick up today, so I have arranged for you to visit the trust vault your father had the foresight to create for use upon his untimely death."

Harry rocked back on his heels, stunned, while McGonagall gave him a sad smile. "You remind so much of both your parents. James' mischievous nature combined with Lily's incredible mind." She chuckled quietly while Harry recovered.

"It's such a shame that they never had the chance to see you grow up. If you have a moment free once you're at the school, feel free to come to my office, I'm sure you wouldn't mind hearing more about your parents. As it is now, I''m on a tight schedule, so I shall you leave you in," She paused and turned to the goblin behind the desk. "Excuse me, but what was your name again?"

The goblin grunted quietly but answered nonetheless. "Griphook. Griphook Gorehooksson." Harry raised a brow at the... colorful name. McGonagall gave the goblin an appreciative nod to which she received another quiet grunt.

"Thank you Mr. Gorehooksson. He shall take you down to your vault and give you your key for it. After that you have the list of required supplies for school, and I expect you to have them all purchased within a couple of hours, at which point I shall meet you at the entrance of the alley. Is that alright with you Mr. Potter?"

Harry rapidly nodded his head, eager to see just how much his father had put aside for him, his heart twinging as he thought of his father and mother. He always knew that they hadn't died in a car accident, his uncle's drunken ramblings about 'those damn freaks killing each other' had put that thought to rest rather quickly, but he had never managed to get out the specifics of his parent's deaths. Though his tongue was afire with questions that he felt a burning desire to know the answers too, he had to douse his curiosity, after waiting nearly ten years he could afford to wait another few months.

McGonagall gave him another sad smile, her hand reaching out to ruffle his hair as she passed him by, the door swinging closed behind her as she followed another goblin towards the rear of the bank. Harry took a deep, calming breath as he re-centered himself before turning to the waiting goblin. Surprisingly, the goblin gave him a somber nod of respect before gesturing for Harry to follow him.

As Harry entered his vault, he couldn't help but think that the designer of the bank's transportation system was either mad or sadistic,or quite possibly both. His eyes widened while his jaw dropped as he took in the rather large pile of golden coins that filled most of the small square room. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the list of required items before handing it to a curious Griphook.

Harry gestured towards the list before turning back to study the pile of coins. "How much do you think I need to cover everything on the list?" The goblin raised an impressed eyebrow at seeing a wizard actually acting intelligently where money was concerned.

"Hrm, if you want the best, a hundred galleons at the most I'd wager, probably less if you could find some of the books used or if you haggle the price down a bit. Might I ask why?" Harry nodded thoughtfully as he looked over the pile with a careful look.

"I find myself woefully unprepared for the things that most wizards raised by magical families seem to take as granted, thus, I wanted to purchase a few additional books that could hopefully enlighten me." The grin on his face as he turned to face Griphook sent some indescribable feeling running down his spine. "I also have a need for some rare ingredients necessary for a few rituals I wanted to try, and now that I have the opportunity, it would be such a shame to waste it, wouldn't you agree?"

The goblin nodded quickly, his body almost, though only almost sagging with relief as Harry turned back to the pile and began to gather coins that he placed in a small bag, a bag the goblin noticed hadn't been on his person when he had gone through the passive security scans. Griphook did allow himself a small sigh, as something in the boy-wizard's gaze reminded all too much of that of some of the nastier dragons that guarded some of the deeper vaults, that of a predator carefully studying its prey and observing all the possible ways in which it might flee.

The ride back to the surface was quiet, as Griphook unconsciously leaned as far away from the other passenger in the car as was possible. Harry himself was quiet, though it was mainly due to the fact that his mind was working hard at calculating exactly what he he could purchase with his newfound wealth and access to to unique materials and ingredients. Exiting the bank, he barely noticed the guards, once again hidden off to the side and out of view, giving him respectful nods, to which he returned in kind.

* * *

As Harry stepped out of Flourish and Blotts, his trunk packed near to bursting with all his necessary school books and other supplies, as well as a few tomes of additional interest for his own personal reading, he pulled out his shopping list and marked off the various required schoolbooks. He had already picked up everything else, including an additional stop at Mad Man Muaji's Magical Materials for Mystical Mages for a a few additional ingredients he needed for one of his more important rituals. He smiled as he found only two more required items on the list: a wand, though he personally thought such a thing was useless and unnecessary, but he still had to purchase one anyways; and the required school robes, again, something that in his mind seemed unwieldy and unfit for a sorcerer of an caliber to wear, but, as it was said, when in Rome.

After quickly shrinking the trunk and placing it inside his pocket, he found a position where he could easily see clearly in both directions, his eyes moving up and down the alley as he scanned the shopfronts for a place selling wizard's clothing. Oddly enough, there seemed to be only the one, and as he stepped inside an aide instantly set him down near where a blonde haired boy was getting fitted. While Harry was perfectly content to simply wait quietly to be fitted and leave, his mind working on the calculations necessary to adjust one of the rituals he had come across in one of his books, the blonde decided to try and strike up a conversation.

"So, your attending Hogwarts too?" Harry blinked as he was dropped out of his musings, giving the blonde boy a grunt that could possibly be construed as affirmative before returning to his thoughts. Apparently that was enough for the blonde to misconstrue as interest in what he was saying.

"So have you figured out what House you'll be in yet? I'm guaranteed in Slytherin, you know, the best house of course." Harry sighed and leveled a flat look at the blonde that effectively quieted him.

"I don't know what the Houses actually are, and I really don't care at this moment which one is best, so if you would kindly shut up, I would like to finish getting fitted in peace." For a moment the blonde's mouth worked silently, his eyes having bugged out at the blatant disrespect he had just received from, to his knowledge, a muggleborn brat who had no idea just who he was dealing with.

"You! You little erg!" Harry blinked and watched in surprise as the rather boy's rather pale skin turned a rather unmanly shade of pink, although, it seemed more of a salmon colour upon reflection. "You dare spit upon the scion of House Malfoy? When my father hears about this he'll have your head!"

Harry sighed as he turned to the Malfoy child, who flinched backwards at the way Harry's eyes seemed to dance with magelight, the arcane glow consuming his focus until he could see nothing else but those great emerald depths. Vaguely, as if hearing it from a great distance, he heard someone speak, the words strangely clear, "_Dormitabis o irascendum cor" (2) _

The blonde haired boy began to slump where he stood, the assistant rushing forwards to catch him before he fell to the ground. Harry snickered quietly as the assistant propped up the blonde with several sticks, so that they could finish fitting him. Once Harry was finished being fitted himself, the Malfoy heir still deep in dreamland, he quietly snuck out the door as a taller, older version of the blonde boy entered, though he made sure to slip a few extra coins as a tip to the assistant.

All that was left for him was to pick up a wand, as distasteful as he found such an object, it was still required and he didn't want to pass up on a chance to attend a proper school for magic users just because he wouldn't buy a stupid stick. He had passed by a decent looking shop when the Professor had first led him through the alley to the bank, and he traced his way back to it again.

Stepping inside Ollivander's, according to the sign outside, he was struck by the eerie silence within. He paused, one step over the threshold as he turned his head to study the door itself. He was unsurprised to find a very subtle ward design etched into the wood. Leaning closer to the small, arcane design, he failed to notice as he began to mutter quietly to himself.

"Hmm, a subtle non-detection spell woven into a altered silencing ward, explains the lack of noise from the alley, but why wou-"

"Because I like my privacy boy," Harry jumped in surprise as someone spoke up from behind him. He spun around and found himself face to face with a man so old it seemed the colour had washed out of his eyes. The old man continued speaking as he gestured for Harry to follow him deeper into the shop. "If you don't mind I'd like to keep that little discovery of yours to yourself. Privacy and peace and quiet are rare commodities these days, worth their weight in gold and then some."

The shopkeeper stopped abruptly and Harry nearly tripped as he tried to keep himself from colliding with the old man. "Now then, I take it you've come for a wand?" Harry opened his mouth to respond but closed it as the shopkeeper waved him off. "A rhetorical question, everyone who comes here is looking for wand, so why should you be any different."

With a huff the old man pulled up a large binder and set it on the desk, a large cloud of dust rising into the air off the cover. The wandmaker pulled the binder open and began leafing through it, only to pause and quickly shut it, before he returned it back to the shelf from which he had retrieved it from. " Sorry about that," he began to explain as he caught sight of Harry's confused expression, " I was looking for my archives and pulled out one of my binders full of women instead.(3) Ah here we go."

Harry watched bemused as the old man, presumably the owner of the shop, Mr. Ollivander, pulled out another binder that looked almost exactly alike to the first one, right down to the tremendous plume of dust that arose when it was set down. Once again he leafed through the old tattered pages, turned yellow from age, occasionally murmuring to himself softly as his eyes alighted upon one piece of text or another. Eventually he found what he was looking for, or so it seemed, as he closed the book with a resounding clap that echoed in the enforced silence of the shop.

The thin and spidery old man left the binder where it was as he quickly vanished down one of the aisles. Harry waited for a moment and then began to follow, only to jump in surprise as Ollivander appeared silently by his side, several small boxes clutched in his arms. As he set them down, he carefully opened them and studied the contents before he finally found one he approved of, his bony fingers deftly removing the polished wooden wand from its container before presenting it to Harry.

Harry looked down at the wand and back up to Ollivander, who was waiting with an expectant expression on his face. Harry shrugged and waved the wand grandiosely much as he imagined how a wizard would have acted if they were at all the way they had been described in his books, and blinked as miniature spectral dragons emerged from the tip of the wand, the small creatures flying up to circle around his head.

Harry looked over to ask if this was normal behavior from someone first using a wand, only to stop as he found the shopkeeper staring at him in a mix of shock and awe. As the spectral dragons slowly began to fade away Ollivander shook himself from his stupor, his shock giving way to an eager and intense energy as he moved past Harry to check his books, muttering to himself all the while.

He quickly returned with a small box and an old leather bound tome the size of one of the laptops Harry had seen advertised on the television. (4) Ollivander tossed the tome and box towards Harry, whose eyes widened in surprise as he moved forwards to catch them before they hit the ground. Harry heaved tremendous breaths of air as he drew in his arms, the objects grasped in his hands still in one piece, while Ollivander allowed himself an amused chuckle.

"Wonderful reaction there boy. That book has a few tips for learning how to use a wand, and," The old man smiled as he saw Harry roll his eyes, "it is specially designed for magic practitioners who usually work their magic _without _wands." Ollivander chuckled again at the stunned look on Harry's face. "Ah don't worry about it my boy, you keep my secret and I'll keep yours until the day I die. Besides, having a true sorcerer come through my shop has only happened once before, and that young man... " Ollivander trailed off as his eyes grew distant, his mind filled by some long ago memory.

"That's a tale for another time I suppose. But that little box there is apparently a gift for you, or as I was told, the next heritor of the great powers of the blood to step into my shop. Don't open that here," The wandmaker hastily reached out and put a spindly hand over top of Harry's, "whatever is within should be for your eyes and your eyes alone. Now then," the shopkeeper leaned backwards as he relaxed somewhat, "all that's left is to ring you up."

Harry raised a brow in curiosity as the old man quietly rattled off a mess of details before he gave himself a shake and refocused on Harry. "Thirteen inches of magically treated yew, and the heartsblood of Tiamat the Queen of Dragons herself, or so I was told by my supplier when I made that wand." The wandmaker smiled wryly at Harry as he leaned in and spoke in an exaggerated whisper. "Of course, between you and me, I think he was a little bit soft in the head, but don't tell anyone else I said that, I have a reputation to keep you know."

"Anyways," Ollivander's face suddenly turned dark as he gave Harry a grave look."That wand of yours is powerful, and the last wand I sold that was even anywhere close to being half as strong went on to do terrible, terrible things. Keep good care of that wand boy, and it will keep good care of yourself. That aside, twenty-three Galleons please."

Harry was caught off guard as the wandmaker shifted abruptly from a grim and rather somber demeanor back into a more energetic and positive one, though his surprise only lasted for a moment before he recovered and withdrew the required coinage from his pockets. Ollivander smiled and gave him a friendly pat on the back before shooing him out the door. As soon as Harry was gone the smile fell from the old man's face, his eyes growing hard as he turned around and headed towards the back of the shop.

As the wandmaker passed by one of the walls, he paused and looked up at a painting that hung upon it, oddly enough the painting wasn't animated like most others in the wizarding world, nor was it done in a style even closely reminiscent to any modern or historical portrait from Europe, instead it more closely resembled the art of medieval Japan."So, it seems that the time you predicted has finally come. I dearly pray that what you foresaw wasn't accurate. He will use your gifts well, all three of them. I just hope that one day you get what's coming to you, you bloody fox."

Ollivander's eyes narrowed as the man in the portrait almost seemed to smirk at him. He blinked and the portrait had returned back to normal, once more becoming the perfect image of the stoicism and intelligence, the fan that cover his mouth failing to disguise the twinkle within the young man's eyes. Ollivander twitched as he continued to stare at the portrait, silently demanding it change again. When it didn't, he gave a huff before he headed once more into the back room, as no matter how he felt about the man, he did swear to notify him when certain events occurred. Bloody fox and his bloody paper golems making trouble for him.

* * *

Harry meanwhile had returned to the wall where he had entered the alley, content to experiment with his wand to see what he could do with it. So far he had managed to create an even larger dragon that seemed to be around the size of his forearm, though it was hard to tell as it seemed to be made of a pale grey mist that ebbed and flowed in a pulse none-too-dissimilar to a heartbeat. Unlike the most of the dragons he had seen, in illustrations within his books, the dragon seemed much like serpent, with a long, narrow body; large, bat-like wings; and a lack of legs or arms.

The creature had taken a quick flight around the area before returning to nest within the mess of hair that topped Harry's head, the dragon somehow seeming to vanish from sight even with it's size. After that Harry had brought out one of the books he had bought on the various forms of magic, at least according to the wizarding world's knowledge, as from his own books he had a pretty good idea as to the various types and styles of spells.

He was midway through the section on transfiguration, which was still only the first section in the book, as he had been spending his time comparing what he knew of the Transmutation school of magic to the various dissertations on transfiguration presented within, when McGonagall finally rejoined him, a large wrapped package in one hand and a small bag of lemon drop candies in the other.

McGonagall's mouth twitched as she noticed where Harry's eyes had focused. She gave the bag a shake before tossing it into Harry's lap as she stepped past him. "Before you ask, those are the Headmaster's favorites, and he has recently run out of his supply, hence the need for me to make the additional side trip. You would not believe how difficult it is to find those things." She withdrew her wand and tapped the opening pattern on the wall before she stepped back and retrieved the bag from Harry's hands.

"Now then, did you manage to gather everything you needed?" Harry grinned widely up at her as he walked with her through the Pub. Something about his grin though, set off all kinds of warnings in McGonagall's mind, as she was reminded all too much of the look on his father's face when he had something planned, usually where one of the Slytherins where concerned.

McGonagall flinched slightly as a serpentine head emerged from atop Harry's head. "Oh, you might say I got what I came for, and then some. This looks like it will be the beginning of something... extraordinary. Truly extraordinary." And at that moment, McGonagall couldn't have felt more terrified of the future than if a seer had walked up to her and told her she was going to sit down for tea with He-who-must-not-be-named. Somehow, the warm smile on Harry's face failed to comfort her.

* * *

(1) Not sure if this exists in this denomination or not. Either way, just go with it.

(2) Slumber, o angered heart. A basic low-level sleep spell.

(3) He's a creepy old man who can seemingly remember every single customer without fail. That and I couldn't resist putting the joke into one of my stories somewhere.

(4) Screw canon time, this is my fiction, so I get to do what I want with it.

Hmm, magic user, ancient, some kind of pseudo-seer, is compared to a fox, and is from medieval Japan... Who could that possibly be? Hehehehehe.

* * *

So yeah, Harry Potter as a D&D equivalent Sorcerer, a spontaneous caster whose magic comes from his blood rather than practice like a wizard. Plus a little bit of monk/fighter to give him a little substance. *Evil Grins* Come on, don't you want to see someone actually wrestle a troll? That may or may not happen, just so you know, but I thought the mental image might be appreciated.

Yes, there are more than a few creative liberties I've taken with things, but I think I've done a good enough job at keeping this true to the original, in spirit if not in body. And, to my surprise and joy, this is also more than one ninth the entire first book. That to me is pretty cool, though I don't know about you guys.

I'm pretty much set on pairings and the house and stuff, but if you guys have suggestions, I'm all ears. Anyways, I hope you liked it. Next up on the update list, Daimakacho Buffy, and Project Dark Eden.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N:Edited chapter that should address some of the issues certain reviewers had.

* * *

_Causality__ has become a Casualty of Possibility._

_The wings of chaos beat to the pulse of the world,  
__Can you hear it? Can you feel it?  
Can you see the darkening horizon?  
__A storm has been born,  
and all before it shall be swept away and remade._

-Tracey Davis-

* * *

London awoke to yet another day of rain, hardly uncommon for the city, though thankfully for the inhabitants of Little Whinging, it had passed them by rather quickly as the storm-front moved northwards towards the center of the city. For most it was simply another normal day to which they would follow their daily routine, save for the family that called #4 Privet Drive their home.

Vernon Dursley grimaced as his eyes drifted to the reflection of his freak of a nephew in his car's rear-view mirror, the boy taunting him with the illusion of normalcy he presented. The plain old jeans he wore - purchased with money the boy had earned through various jobs he did for people in the neighborhood, and money that he had somehow managed to keep from the Dursley's eyes, much to their continued frustration - and the simple black shirt he had on made him look like any other normal boy his age. It galled Vernon to know that the thing in the backseat could hide its freakishness as easily as slipping on a different set of clothes.

Distracted as he was by his thoughts, he nearly missed the train station, catching sight of it out of the corner of his eyes as he jerked the car to a stop, his lip twitching upwards slightly as he saw the boy in back flung forward to choke on the seatbelt. His face settled onto an appropriately disgusted expression as he twisted his body around to face the back, which was quite a feat given his rather immense girth.

"Listen boy, I'm going to say this once, and only once. I don't give a damn what you learn, and what those freaks might teach you, but if you bring any of it back into my house, I will beat you until you can't walk, damn all the consequences. Am I understood?" His voice was a low rumbling growl as his hand twitched by his side, the fingers slowly clenching and unclenching into a fist. Harry nodded somberly, fully aware of the fact that Vernon would carry out his promise without any qualms about it, and he understood that it wasn't anything to hold against his uncle, as the man was, in the end, only looking out for the safety of his wife and child, though it had been warped to the point where it had become a paranoia towards anything that seemed out of place in his perfect and safe little world. Harry did not begrudge his uncle his words, but he did mark them, as he had no intention of seeing his uncle's promise made reality. If he wanted to, he could use some of his magic to protect himself, but he had sworn to himself a long time ago that he would not use it indiscriminately, or without due cause.

Vernon took in a deep breath - the windows of the car rattling while Harry's ears popped at the sudden change in air pressure - as he tried to lower his blood pressure to a safer level. When he spoke again his voice was still low, but it was no longer a near guttural growl. "Good. Then I want you out of my car and out of my sight for as long as possible." His brow twitched when Harry didn't immediately jump to leave the vehicle.

"What are you waiting for, the Bloody Queen to arrive? Out with you!" Harry nodded and hopped out of the car, barely pausing to close the door as Vernon turned around and began to drive off. Harry stood at the curb for a moment, his face blank as he curiously stared at the receding back of the car. His hand slipped into his pocket to check the presence of his trunk, shrunken down to the size of a toy train and the weight reduced to that of a feather, courtesy of his copy of Complete Arcana.

While Sorcerers like himself possessed an innate gift of magic thanks to their blood, using it still required shaping the raw mana into a usable form, such as spells, runes, potions, scrolls, and the like. The main difference, between a sorcerer and wizard, other than the fact that it took years of dedicated training to manage even the most basic Magic Missile for a wizard, was that a sorcerer had a natural mana-font in his own body, while a wizard absorbed mana from the surrounding area. Depending on the sorcerer, this meant he could theoretically toss around Fireballs all day without running out of mana if he has a powerful enough source, and if he did exhaust his reserves, he could recover much quicker than a wizard of equivalent experience and power. Certain spells worked better for one class or the other, and the methods of application and the mechanics of how the spells were assembled were wildly different, but there was no inability inherent in a sorcerer that made them unable to learn new spells, after all, if that were the case then every sorcerer would have their whatever spells they managed to figure out and create through experimentation.

Those spells, as well as a few additional rituals from his collection, had been the results of several experiments he had finally been able to accomplish after acquiring the necessary materials he had been lacking, until the trip to Diagon Alley. There was no doubt in his mind that deciding to go to Hogwarts was the right decision for him to make; not only would he have a chance to improve and perfect his skills without worry, he would finally have a chance to meet other people like him, hopefully. He had spent a couple evenings reading through his books and already he was more than guaranteed to shake things up a little once he arrived; and he wouldn't have it any other way. While he didn't go out of his way to upset people or cause them grief, he had found after living for over a decade on plain uniform Privet Drive that things were far more enjoyable when disturbed from the status quo. It was like staring into a glass of water with sand at the bottom. When it is alone and left untouched, it's rather boring to look at; but when stirred around, the sand begins to swirl, and swirl, forming something moving and thus it becomes interesting.

Something deep inside him, some last shred of hope that his remaining family might have held a shred of love or care for him, withered away and died in that moment. He looked at the station around him, full of young children smiling as their parents led them off to the trains that would take them to schools of their own, as well as hundreds of ordinary men and women, some in groups but most by themselves, all heading off to work, yet all of them were smiling, at least a little.

Harry closed his eyes and stood completely still, and when he opened them again they were as devoid of liquid as the Sahara during the dry season, yet they were not heated, nor were they cold or bitter. There was a warmth in them, an innate curiosity and naivety that the world had not yet worn away, as well as an intellect and power that was simply waiting to be unleashed and allowed to change the world.

They were, as many would agree, a pair of the most interesting eyes in world.

* * *

Within King's Cross Station was what most people would call an absolute mess; people filled the station from wall to wall in a veritable sea of humanity, and much like any other more natural sea, this one did too possess its tides and currents. A skilled person could look out upon such a group of people and read the currents, navigating them as easily as an able-bodied seaman would the waters of his calling in order to reach his destination.

Harry was, while not that skilled with directly interacting with people - the enforced isolation from other people at the hands of his relatives for the first half of his life had done a great deal in hampering his social growth and maturity in that aspect - he was more than adequately skilled in reading body language, thanks to his extra training, and a crowd was essentially one massive body composed of cells and limbs of humanity. He stood at the entrance to the station for a moment as he cast his gaze across the crowded platforms, his eyes taking in every detail they could, before he finally decided to toss himself into the breach.

Though he was rather uncomfortable around such a mass of people, he nevertheless was able to navigate his way through the crowds towards where, to his logic, the platform on his ticket should be; only to stop as he found himself standing between platforms Nine and Ten, with no Nine and Three Quarters in sight. He wasn't too surprised by that, only put off for a moment. The fact that his destination wasn't openly on display for the whole world to see was hardly cause for alarm.

The platform, considering its clientele, would almost certainly be hidden, much like the alley in which he had done his shopping. Sure in his knowledge, Harry quietly walked over to Platform Ten before turning to face Platform Nine. He murmured to himself as he counted the large stone columns between the two platforms, his hands in his pockets and a wide smile on his face as he walked over and gently tapped the second column, his smile growing smug as his hand sunk into the stone with little resistance, the brick rippling around his hand like it was a vertical pool of water.

Without hesitation he plunged ahead, only stumbling slightly as he stepped out from a stone wall and onto yet another platform; though this one was quite different considering the older model steam train already waiting, as well as the actual people who were using the platform. While Harry took in the sights, amusing himself a great deal at the way so many of the wizards and witches fit their stereotypical descriptions, a certain red-haired matron looked across the Muggle section of King's Cross Station with a look of confusion.

Harry's eyes darted across the platform until they settled on a section that seemed less densely populated near the very front of the train. Making his way over, he neatly wove his way through the throngs of parents and students, more than once having to tap into his training in order to avoid colliding with someone. Finally he reached the relatively open space, the few others nearby giving him brief looks of appraisal before returning to their business.

Once again he was glad he had taken the time to disguise his appearance. He had picked up a couple history books during his shopping trip and, to his endless surprise and fascination, found that he held a prominent spot in recent events for the alleged defeat of some great and terrible dark wizard. Considering the fact that the story was in all three of the history books he had purchased, traveling with his distinctive scar hidden from sight, currently via longer than usual bangs of messy black hair, was a good idea.

Harry raised his hand towards the sky, his palm facing upwards, and whistled a short tune. He stood there quietly and motionless for a minute, his behaviour, odd even among a people who were rather used to their eccentrics, was just beginning to attract attention, when his patience was rewarded.

A sudden wind that blew through the stat ion, sending robes and skirts a flutter, and pulling gently at loose strands of hair, was the first sign of her arrival. The second was the small blur that darted through the crowd, flickering from spot to spot without ever seeming to resolve itself into an identifiable form. Its erratic path eventually brought it to Harry, where the blur circled him, the air whipping around his body like a cloak of storms, before it settled down onto his outstretched hand.

No longer moving, the blur revealed itself to be, for all intents and purposes, a young girl of no more than nine or ten years of age, and all of eight inches tall. Her hair was the colour of the sky on a bright summer's day; she wore a simple white dress that flowed like a cloud, changing length slightly with the breeze; and from her back stretched four currents of air that constantly swirled in visible patterns, forming dragonfly-like wings that occasionally fluttered, as if they were flesh and blood. She beamed up at Harry with a smile full of innocence and child-like joy.

"Seems someone's happy to see me," Harry smiled back as he put his hand close to his chest, the girl hopping off his hand and clambering up to sit at his shoulder.

"Yep-yep! Haley is happy to be with Master, isn't Haley a good familiar?" The black haired boy chuckled at the sky-haired girl's intense gaze as he began to weave his way through the crowds once more, his footsteps taking him towards one of the emptier cars near the rear of the train.

"Oh certainly. I couldn't have asked for a better familiar." And he couldn't have. Haley was, to only the most dedicated practitioners of certain obscure types of magic, known as a Sheele; the physical embodiment of a section of a person's soul, a reflection of their pure inner self. Harry had even found reference to them in one of the history books he had picked up, though it was only a brief reference to their rarity due to the difficulty and obscurity of the ritual necessary to summon them. A great deal of their rarity was in fact due to the fact that few, even among the wizarding population, could actually perceive the Sheele unless they wished to be seen.

Quite frankly, he was more than a small bit surprised when he stumbled across the ritual, fully detailed with all the recorded general variations of Sheele as well as the necessary ingredients, and it had been the first ritual he had performed after returning from Diagon Alley. It had taken up most of the night, as well as nearly all of the extra ingredients he had purchased, but Harry had obtained a loyal lifelong companion who knew him as well as he did himself, if not better.

As the pair was passing by yet another group of students, Harry paused as he heard his name brought up in the conversation. The speaker, now that Harry was paying attention to his surroundings, was the rather irritating blonde from the clothing shop, and he was speaking to a pair of boys who looked cut from the same cloth as his own cousin; big, slow, and rather stupid. From the way the blonde seemed to be exasperatedly repeating himself, it seemed Harry was spot on with his analysis.

"-otter. For the last time, I don't care if we have to go through the entire train one cabin at a time, but we are going to find him, understood?" Harry's eyes widened in surprise as he cautiously ducked out of sight from the group before hastily boarding the train. Oh, he wasn't too surprised to find that the blonde was upset with him after the incident in the Alley, but getting together a pair of goons and hunting him down seemed a little extreme.

Harry dodged his way through the crowded train cars, slipping around students as they hauled their trunks or stopped to chat with their friends, until he reached a relatively deserted car near the end of the train. Spotting Haley floating in front of an open door, he ducked inside and closed it most of the way while he stared through the gap in for pursuers, Haley mimicking him from her perch atop his head. He quietly cursed as he saw the trio making their way through car, having obviously got on board the car directly rather than go through several others like Harry had.

With the blonde and his goons certain to make a stop at the cabin he was hiding in, he had no other choice but to use one of his sorcerous specialties. It was a specialty created due to two major reasons; firstly, a need for a way to get away from his cousin and his cronies, as well as from some of the more obtuse and gullible members of Little Whinging who listened to his relatives. Secondly, it had been a way of testing his transformative powers to their limits, as well as taking a page from mythology and following in Loki's more intriguing footsteps. Haley, sensing what he was about to do, left his shoulder and found a spot near the roof where she could watch with impunity.

His eyes closed as he directed his focus inwards, towards his center of being. When he had first begun experimenting with his capabilities, he had found that unless he worked the changes from the inside towards the surface, then things were more likely to become unstable and shift unexpectedly, something that simply didn't work for a useful disguise. Mastering the ability hadn't been too difficult, only requiring a good amount of practice that had been unfortunately easy to obtain, and he had spent a great deal of time establishing several alternate identities for him to retreat to, in case he had a need to hide for whatever reason.

The familiar sensation of his skin crawling caused Harry to open his eyes, his mind tracking and directing the changes to his body subconsciously while he altered his clothing to fit his new form. His black shirt and jeans melted and flowed together into red leather, shaped by Harry's mental template. The form he had chosen was one of his favorites, as it was based entirely upon one of his idols; one of the great magic users of Galarion. He folded up his glasses and placed them into a pocket as he tucked a loose strand of blonde hair behind his ear.

His eyes narrowed as he heard the sound of someone gasping in surprise from behind. Spinning around, he found himself face to face with another Hogwarts student. The girl looked completely awestruck, her mouth gaping in shock, a small book falling from suddenly slackened fingers. A part of Harry noted that she looked quite cute, her spiked blonde hair complimenting her black blouse, the garment loosely emphasizing the girl's blossoming bust, and piercing sapphire eyes set in a heart-shaped face. The girl finally managed to get her mind somewhat together, and spoke a single name that completely stunned Harry.

"S-Seoni?"

* * *

The student who had been, up until Harry's rather abrupt and quite loud entry, silently and comfortably reading her book - which was actually a volume of a Japanese manga that she had received from a... friend of hers- was stunned for several reasons, some of them separate from another, but most linked together. Certainly, having some stranger burst into the compartment was a surprising occurrence in and of itself, but when that same stranger suddenly began to change shape right before her very eyes, well, things became much more interesting. She had settled into the compartment herself just a few minutes earlier, after have made certain that her familiar and owl were being well taken care of and she had promptly sat down and pulled out her most recent gift from her patron. It was to be her fourth year at Hogwarts, with her parents having waited to have her until they were out of the country during the war against the last Dark Lord, and Nymphadora Tonks - though only her parents and closest relatives and friends were allowed to use her first name - was eagerly awaiting the departure of the train while she caught up on some reading. Reading was her way of distracting herself from doubts that plagued her over missing her home for the year, or the problems caused by her own nature.

She gave a small huff as she was forcibly reminded of why she had taken a cabin to herself. The year previously a self-absorbed boy in her grade had taken and interest in her, and Tonks had gleefully accepted his attentions; or at least she had until she realized that the only reason he cared was because of her 'talents'. She smiled as she returned to reading her book. When the teachers had finally found the boy, after he had missed an entire day's worth of classes, it had taken three of them _plus _the Headmaster to defrost him enough for the normal anti-freeze potions to be administered. Her talents weren't limited to just her body, though very few people were actually aware of that fact, of course it helped that her latter talents had only developed the year before she arrived at Hogwarts.

Her more well known ability was, while incredibly useful, somewhat of a mixed blessing. She certainly couldn't imagine life without it though, so she had long ago come to terms with most of its down-sides, though some still caused no small amount of anguish, as proven the previous year. She herself had never met, seen, nor heard of someone with the ability to change their own form until her fifth birthday, when she had accidentally fallen from her chair at the dining table, her mother rushing over to help her up, only to stop in shock as she noticed her darling daughter's hair traversing all the colors of the rainbow. That had led to a rather interesting introduction into some of the far more rare types of magic, and the specifics of her talent in particular.

She had, until less than a minute ago, been led to believe, for her entire life and the three previous years at Hogwarts, that she was the first English Metamorphmagus in over four and a half centuries. But even she couldn't actually alter her clothing while she was performing a shift, having to do so either before or after she was finished, and as the boy, who hadn't even bothered to look into the cabin he had entered before he turned to stare out the door, began to change before her very eyes, she couldn't help but feel a strange sense of familiarity overcome her.

Black hair become a golden mane that flowed down his back as his height increased by a few inches, and then the true changes began to occur. His body began to flow as mass was added, subtracted, and redistributed, forming something at once familiar and foreign to the young Hufflepuff. The altered clothing also served to help identify the boy's new form. Black became red as the fabric flowed and lengthened, changing texture as it split at the hips, revealing pale skin already becoming a deep olive with brilliant blue runic tattoos snaking across the silky smooth surface.

Without even having to look at the stranger's face Tonks knew him, or rather, the _her _he had become. As impossible as it seemed, Fate had played her hand and sent Tonks the woman she had sworn to provide aid to on that cold dark winter's night so many years before. Though the hair style was different, it was as still wild and untamed as it usually was, and even though she appeared nearly a decade younger than the picture she had been shown, there was no doubt in Tonks' mind as to who was standing before her. The name, never spoken aloud before from her own mouth, tumbled shakily off her tongue, the sudden sound sending the girl in front of her spinning around in search of the source of the noise.

"S-Seoni?"

* * *

For a moment the pair simply stared at each other in shock, only for the sound of a cabin door being forcefully slammed closed breaking them from their stupor, Harry actually jumping in surprise at the sudden noise. He - _she , _having taken on all aspects of his idol's appearance, including gender, Harry slipped easily into using female pronouns when concerning himself, his efforts unknowingly aided by the altered make-up of his brain and the various chemicals running through his changed body - quickly took a seat opposite from the older girl, putting a finger to her lips before assuming a relaxed position.

Not a moment later the cabin door opened fully and the blonde boy and his two brutish companions entered. His eyes immediately turned towards the vibrant crimson robes worn by Harry, his eyes studying her carefully, albeit somewhat confusedly, before turning hard as he moved his attention to the other girl in the cabin. His face turned into a smug sneer as he stared at the spiked blonde, his opening to say something, before he shut as his face dropped in realization that he still hadn't accomplished what he had set out to do, and that he was wasting his time. He turned on his heel and exited the cabin without a word, his two companions following closely behind him. One stopped briefly and closed the door behind them before hurrying off to catch up with the others.

Harry let out a relieved sigh and turned her attention back to the girl he had intruded upon, only to find herself inches away from being impaled through the eye courtesy of the short blade of serrated black metal floating in front of her face. Harry couldn't help but feel a bit intimidated, as the blade in front of her face was joined by one positioned near his heart. The spiked blonde gave her a piercing look before she retrieved a small folded sheet of well worn paper. She opened and glanced at the contents before putting it on the seat beside her.

"If was I was to say to you, 'I am the Queen of the Winter Mountains seeking the light'," the girl trailed off as Harry's eyes widened in surprise, the words of response already falling off her tongue without thought.

"Then I would respond, 'I am the Lady of the Burning Sands carrying the sun in my hands'," Harry sat back as the other girl heaved a sigh, rubbing tiredly at her eyes. "I thought I was the only one with those books, so how the heck do you know that?"

Instead of answering verbally, the other girl waved her hand, the summoned blades vanishing before Harry's eyes. "You have no idea what's going on do you?" Harry gave the girl an affronted look and opened her mouth to respond, only to quiet as the girl continued on before she could speak, though it seemed to be mostly directed towards herself. "No of course not. She would never make things _too _easy for me. I swear when I get my hands on her..."

Harry gave the other blonde a curious look as she began to mutter under breath about various things she unleash upon a certain woman's person, more than a few which Harry was certain were anatomically impossible. The girl finally wound down and fixed Harry with an intense stare. The train suddenly shook as the station outside began to recede slowly into the distance. Harry began to fidget under the steady gaze. She finally turned away, wandlessly summoning a small black cloth bag from under her seat, the action catching Harry's interest.

The blonde pulled out a small foldable chess set, which she set to her side, as well as a few other items that had Harry scratching her head, metaphorically, in confusion. There was a small leather head-band attached by short cords to what appeared to be an engraved piece of wood shaped similarly to an upside down boomerang, a couple oriental hairpins, and a small glass container filled with a murky silver liquid. She set the container of liquid on top of the chess set and dove into the bag once more, this time retrieving a pair of flat black and white stones. Harry watched intrigued as the girl set one stone against the bottom of the chess set, the other she simply let fall to the floor between the two magic users.

"Hey," the girl paused for a moment as she realized that neither she nor Harry had introduced each other. "Uh, since I don't know your name, and its kinda obvious you don't want people to know who you are - and later I want to speak with you about how you did that trick with your clothes - why don't I just call you Seoni, that fine?"

Harry nodded, as she had been planning on sticking in her current form until the train arrived at Hogwarts, in the case of anyone else out looking for her or the blonde returning to her car. "That's fine, when I look like this I usually go by Seoni, so I don't mind."

She paused and leaned back in her seat as she regarded the blonde across from her. "What about you?" She asked as she tilted her head to the side in consideration, "what should I call you?"

The blonde smiled and closed her eyes. A moment later her hair began to grow out, the blonde paling well past even the robe-store boy's shade of platinum until it became a pure snow-like white. Harry noticed the shape of her eyes subtly changing as well; narrowing and become almost almond-shaped, similar to some of the exchange students he had met from Japan at his old school one year. Something about that combination of features seemed to tickle the back of Harry's mind with familiarity, but she was too distracted by the sight of someone else changing themselves like she could to pay much attention to the niggling sensation.

She gathered some her hair up into a bunch and placed the pins into it in order for it to hold its shape. With one hand she pulled back her bangs and put on the head band, the strange piece that was attached to it resting against her forehead. A wide smile stole across her face as she offered her hand to Harry.

"You can call me Feiya," she chuckled as Harry's eyes widened in recognition," its a pleasure to meet you Seoni. Oh," she waved her hand as Harry opened her mouth to offer a correction. "I don't mind you not telling me who you really,

Harry nodded and took her hand, giving it a firm shake before letting go and turning her eyes to the chess set. "Likewise. What's with the chessboard over there?"

"Oh that? I thought we could play a little game, to pass the time you know?" Feiya reached over and grabbed the board with one hand, the other picking up the vial of liquid. She moved the board over the stone she had let drop on the floor and then let go, the board steadily locked in position in midair as she opened up the vial. She upended the container over the board and Harry flinched backwards, half expecting to get splashed by the liquid, only for it to pour out into a large puddle that immediately split into several smaller sections.

Harry's eyes drifted up to find Feiya staring at the board in rapt attention as her finger's danced in the air, almost as if she were jerking around a puppet on invisible strings, the movements corresponding to the sixteen puddles of liquid from which slowly emerged solid pieces of silver ice. Harry leaned forward and studied them, her eyes dancing with delight as she took in their features, the pieces actually moving to display their entirety for her study. Each piece was unique in some way, even each pawn had some distinguishing characteristic, and they were shaped similar to the beasts that roamed the forests of the frozen north. The pawns were brutal looking wolves, much larger than any dog Harry had ever seen, with jaw's filled with terrible fangs and bodies of solid muscle. The rooks were ice giants, their weapons finely sculpted axes of diamond. To their side were the knights, barbarian warriors bearing lances and blades of iron larger than they were tall, mounted atop immense mammoths.

The bishops were a pair of witches, their beautiful appearance and fine clothes at odds with the shards of razor sharp ice that floated behind their heads. Harry studied the pair longer than the other pieces and the witches seemed to preen and pose under her attention. A smile on her face, Harry turned her attention to the final two pieces. The King caught his attention first, for it was the largest and most imposing piece on the board, dwarfing even the ice giants. A serpentine dragon-headed monster rose up off the board, excess liquid sloughing off its body like drifts of snow and ice as if it were emerging from deep beneath a snow covered tundra. Two claw tipped arms carried it forwards, aiding its slithering movement as it moved across the board before returning to its post. A silvery mist escaped a fang filled maw as crystalline eyes observed its observer in turn. To Harry's amusement, Haley decided that she had been quiet long enough as she flew down and landed atop the dragon, her hands playing at pulling its face into odd expressions, much to Feiya's confusion.

Harry chuckled lightly at his familiar's antics, turning away as the Sheele decided to try and ride the frost linnorm while Feiya tried to figure out what was causing her creation to act out. The last piece was, somewhat fittingly, an older version of Feiya, dressed in a tight studded leather bodice, knee-high black metal boots with bright crimson lacing. Around her waist was a belt with several pouches filled with various items. A long ruffled skirt of black fabric with crimson stitching and white edging trailed behind her like a tail, her front covered by a triangular cut of cloth that hung between her legs, allowing her a full range of movement. A small fox danced around her feet, several small balls of ice shaped like fire floating around it. It was quite an interesting look, and from the way the younger Feiya seated in the train seemed to stare longingly at the figure, one that was far too much for the fifteen year-old to pull off without getting put away for indecency, though getting older might not make it that much better. Harry blinked as she realized that Feiya had somehow managed to giver her older visage colour, making her stand out from the other pieces on the board.

Impressed by the amount of skill put into the crafting and animation of the small chess pieces of frozen mercury, or at least that was what Harry thought the liquid was, considering its quick-silver appearance, the sole blonde in the compartment leaned back and gave the board a contemplative look. Seeing as their weren't any pieces for herself, and that Feiya had actually made her own, it seemed like she was supposed to supply them. Since Feiya had made a great show of assembling her army, it was only fair for Harry to return the favour.

She curled her hands into claws and raked the air, and around her fingers appeared threads of flickering light, slowly gathering as she moved her hands through the air around her. Once she had gathered enough, so much that her fingers appeared to have been hidden beneath thick mittens made of woven flames, she began to weave the heat she had gathered into recognizable shapes. Taking a page from her idol's history, and from Feiya's own choice, she made her pieces resemble some of the deadliest beasts of the desert sands.

Her pawns were both male and female ifrit, both dressed in armour befitting their gender and armed with falchions, whips, and other weapons. The rooks were colossal scorpions that easily matched the ice giants in size, if not more so considering their stingers were the size of the giant's torso. Beautiful female torso's blended smoothly into serpentine tails as Harry's knights formed, the lamias the only pieces with matching weapons, daggers - though they appeared more like long steel nails - attached by a length of chain to each lamia's wrist. A quartet of eagle's wings stretched gracefully from a pair of leonine bodies as two regal sphinxes formed to assume positions as Harry's bishops.

Harry's Queen, like Feiya's, was an older version of her current persona, the dress she wore a touch more revealing with a plunging neckline and many daring cutouts that displayed a toned and shapely body. It was, like the outfit on Feiya's figure, a somewhat scandalous dress that would easily spark conversation in passersby. Behind her head and shoulders floated eight balls of mutlicolored fire; blue, red, orange, yellow, white, green, purple, even black flames. Harry had a knack for fire and lightning type spells, and she had spent many hours devoted to studying and altering the composition of her elemental spells for max effect, and she had found that she could actually graft on additional elemental effects to her flames, which consequently altered their appearance with respect to the additional element.

It was the last piece, the king, that caused Feiya to gasp aloud, as the small boy with messy hair of constantly changing length, dressed in a simple pair of trousers with a plain shirt, smiled widely up from the board. The light of the flames refracted through illusory glass, but the focus of her attention was on the lightning bolt shaped mark outlined in black flames that stood out on the boy's face. Judging from the way Feiya alternated staring at the figure with disbelief, and at Harry with a mixture of awe and incredulity, it seemed that she had realized just who it was sitting across from her. A mix of emotions flitted across her face before settling on a small bemused small as she leaned back in her seat.

"You-" She let out an exasperated sigh, "-you really are him aren't you?" At Harry's nod she sighed again and muttered to herself under her breath. "When we get to Hogwarts I am so sending Daji to go give _her _a piece of my mind. Bloody idiot witch doesn't pay me enough for this kinda stuff."

She gave her head a shake and refocused on Harry. "Sorry, uh, where were we?"

Harry gave a quiet laugh and used his magic to command one of his pawns to move forwards. "I think I was just about to kick your butt at chess."

Feiya narrowed her eyes and moved one of her knights, her lips twitching upwards at the corners. "We'll see about that, your move."

* * *

The two had managed to make through three and a two thirds of a chess game, the score at two wins for Harry, spending the time to tell each other edited stories of their lives, such as how they had learned about magic, both the wizarding world kind and their own personal magic as well as Harry could expect once he arrived at Hogwarts, when their peace was disturbed by a pair of voices conversing outside their cabin. Haley lazily opened one eye from where she had been napping on top of the seat back, closing it again when she saw nothing worth giving her attention.

"This is the one, right? You're absolutely sure that he's in here?" said a quiet, yet still forceful, voice. Harry and Tonks, the other girl having told him her 'real' name after her second defeat, shared cautious looks. So far during the ride they had been left alone for the most part, though there was one boy who had popped his head in search of his missing toad, but other than that the pair had been peacefully ignored.

The other voice sounded offended as she, both of them were obviously female, and judging from the sound of their voices, first year students as well, responded. "Yes, I'm sure. I don't see what the hurry is, it's not like he's going anywhere."

"Hmph, well you might not mind being late, but some of us aren't so lucky."

"Ah, but you forget, a wizard is never late, nor is he -or she- early, he arrives precisely when he means to." Harry laughed aloud while Tonks giggled at the smug voice and her words; Harry amused by the fact that there was a wizard who had read Tolkien, and Tonks by the entertaining comeback. The voices on the other side of the door were silent for a moment.

"You knew they could hear us, didn't you. You were just waiting to say that too." The way the words were spoken it wasn't so much a question as it was a statement of fact, though the smug sounding voice seemed not to take it as such.

"Of course I was. Why do you think I waited until now to go and find them?"

"You take after your grandmother way too much, I swear. Let's just get us introduced already so I can go back alright? The amount of steel around here is starting to irritate me." With that the door was pushed open and the speakers stepped inside, and Harry once again was surprised by the differences between the mundane world and the magical realms. The two young girls, both Harry's age, had appearances that would have stood out in any crowd of non-magical people; well, outside of Japan anyways, that place is, to say the least, quite well adjusted when it comes to the strange and unusual, hence why many of the magical organizations have their public fronts headquartered there.

The first girl to enter wouldn't have appeared out of place traveling through the forests of Europe; during the Middle Ages that is. Her top was composed of an earthy brown short-sleeved vest over a plain cloth shirt, and a hooded cape that appeared to be the pelt of a wolf, head, tail, and all in between. A pair of thick fur boots disappeared beneath a brown leather skirt. Her hair was a deep auburn, neck length and threaded through with flowers vines and leaves. Eyes of a color so deep that they appeared black stared with obvious annoyance at her companion.

Said companion simply smiled serenely at her friend, her hands smoothing out the professional light purple jacket and skirt combination she had on, a white silk blouse contrasting sharply against the bright red bow that sat over her collar-bone. She shook her head in amusement, causing her knee-length emerald tresses to tumble in waves, and turned to offer her hand to a confused Harry. Her smile revealed bright white teeth that stood out against her tan skin, skin a few shades darker than Harry's current persona.

Harry took it with no small amount of trepiditation and was pleasantly surprised when all the emerald haired girl did was lightly shake it before letting go. "It's a pleasure to finally meet the illustrious mis-," She broke off as her smile disappeared for moment, only for it return seconds later just as beatific as before. "Miss Potter." She ignored the gaping Harry and turned to a shocked Tonks. " Miss Tonks, I've heard much about you from my grandmother."

The emerald haired girl watched with amusement as Harry and Tonks were reduced to spluttering in surprise as she clearly identified their 'normal' identities. The rougher dressed girl simply looked at Harry with undisguised curiosity, studying her form for a moment before turning to her friend.

"Tracey, you're my friend, and we've known each other for years." She put a hand on Tracey's shoulder and stared her in right in her crimson eyes. "So you'll listen when I say that you're completely out of your flipping mind!" Her eye began to twitch as she whirled around stabbed a finger towards Harry. "I don't know what you're thinking, but I'm pretty sure I remember Harry Potter being the _BOY-_who-lived, and that is no boy."

Tracey shook her head again, her smile still untouched. "Of course he is, but he also, _obviously_, "she drawled out the word as if speaking to a small child, "possesses abilities beyond what are attributed to him in those books they publish. Really Daphne, you should have learned by now to take anything published by those incompetents over at Delphi Publishing House with a metric ton of salt."

"Oi, who's the one who spent an entire weekend gushing over how dreamy and amazing Harry Potter was for saving that Arabian princess? That was just last year, wasn't it?" Daphne smirked triumphantly as Tracey ducked her head away to hide her embarrassed blushing. Chuckling to herself, the leather clad girl turned and offered Harry and Tonks a friendly wave.

"Since Trace only introduced you two, it's only fair for me to do the same. I'm Daphne, heiress of the Greengrass family and our traditional magics which draw from Gaia. Little miss manipulative over there, " Daphne ignored the indignant squawk from the emerald haired girl, " is Tracey Davis, one of the people I call my friends."

For a moment Harry was silent as she studied Daphne, and the redhead almost thought that she might have offended her, only for Harry to cock her head to the side in curiosity. "Gaia huh? Funny, you don't look Druish..."

Tonks and Tracey's eyes went wide as the pair hurried to stifle their laughter, Daphne looking between the two with a look of confusion before returning her focus to a blushing Harry. "The proper word is Druidic, but I know what you mean. It's getting harder and harder for each generation to properly connect with Gaia, and I'm actually the first true Druid in my family for over two and a half centuries." Her eyes turned dark as she looked out the window and watched the acres of farmland and light forest pass by. "I'm just glad to be out of London. Cities never agreed with me, too much concrete and not enough nature for my tastes."

She sighed and took a seat next to Harry, her eyes unseeing as she stared up at the ceiling. "I can't wait until we reach Hogwarts; they say that other than the school and Hogsmeade village there isn't any civilization around for miles. That and there's supposed to be a big forest on the school grounds as well."

"Oh stop it already," Tracey rolled her eyes at her friends behavior as she took her own seat opposite her friend. "You're far to young to be in such a maudlin mood. Lighten up will you." Her suggestion was met with another sigh and Daphne closing her eyes. Tracey shrugged and turned to Harry, her blue eyes full of amusement. "Quite the gathering we have here isn't it?"

She gestured to the four young girls, well three girls and a currently female Harry. "I mean, you're a sorcerer, Daphne's a Druid, I have my grandmother's talent as an Oracle, and Tonks is a real Witch, a few more and we'll have a complete set."

Her smile grew feral and for the first time Harry though she understood why Daphne had kept referring to her friend as manipulative; behind those blue eyes lurked a dangerously sharp intelligence - and if what she said was true about her talent, something Harry was inclined to believe considering she had not only found her, while in her Seoni persona, but she had accurately identified her without either of them having seen the other before - she had access to information that know else could possess, outside of her grandmother possibly.

And even knowing who Harry was, and revealing to Harry her knowledge, she seemed to be completely at ease and unworried. Looking at her, Harry could understand why; everything she was doing was because she wanted some excitement, a desire that Harry shared with her. Harry smiled and offered her hand to a clearly amused Tracey.

"The name is Harry, would you like to be friends?" Daphne cracked an eye open to watch as Tracey smiled wider, warmer, as she reached forward and took Harry's hand. The four of them sat there for a moment, Haley taking the opportunity to buzz around the new arrivals unseen, and Daphne couldn't help but sense a feeling of warmth suffusing the air, as if Gaia was telling her that she was pleased. The Druid in training chuckled and bumped her shoulder against Harry's.

"Hey, how long are you gonna stay like that?" she said curiously. "Not that I'm complaining that you've decided to join the better half of humanity, but I wouldn't have though that staying a girl would be too comfortable."

Harry shook her head and gave a snort of laughter. "Actually, its not so bad, mainly because I haven't hit puberty yet. But I can only do a full change like this a couple times a day, and I really don't want to be mobbed right after getting off the train." A sly smile stole across her face as she gave Tonks a look out of the corner of her eyes.

"And of course Tonks insisted that I stay like this until we're sorted, just to see the looks on everyone's faces." Daphne and Tracey turned as Tonks began to sputter incoherently, her jaw making wordless noises as she stared at Harry with a betrayed look.

"W-why you, how dare you blame this on me! You're the one with the unhealthy obsession with the female form!"

"What!" Daphne and Tracey's eyes swiveled over to stare at a flustered looking Harry. "I'll have you know that I only did this out of absolute necessity, unlike some I could probably guess."

'I-I, you little!" Daphne stifled a laugh as the pair went back and forth like it was a tennis match, though judging from the glow building around Tonks' hands, one that was just about to come to its end. "Geisli á frosti!" The blast of supernatural cold erupted from her hands and coated Harry in a blanket of frost and condensed moisture.

The cabin was silent, until Harry sneezed, causing a dollop of snow to fall on her face from off the ceiling. Tracey nearly pulled a muscle from the laughter that ensued. Harry's smile, past her chattering teeth, was bright enough to see through a moonless night.

* * *

If one word could sum up the totality of what Albus Dumbledore currently felt, it would be bored. Although that wasn't quite accurate. Two words would better describe his feelings, bored and anxious. Yes Dumbledore's emotional state could be summed up with two words; bored, anxious, and tired. Three words would accurately describe Dumbledore and his feelings; bored, anxious, tired, and quite possibly a little bit frightened.

The mind of Albus Dumbledore - Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardy, Grand Sorcerer, Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, and First Class member of the Order of Merlin - was a roiling and tumultuous mix of emotions, most - but not all- centered on one very specific young boy, or more accurately, on said boy's benefactor.

Dumbledore was the greatest wizard to have come out of England in two centuries, but that meant little when compared to the entire world. There were entire families of which even the weakest member could wipe England's wizarding population out single-handedly. It was a sobering thought, and one that caused the aged wizard to feel no small amount of aggravation towards the incompetents that had overseen the English Wizarding World's development for the last four centuries. Ever since the Renaissance began things went downhill, with the wizards of England unwilling to bend against the winds of progress, instead preferring to wall themselves away from what they saw as threats to their existence. Dumbledore allowed himself an amused, yet bitter, chuckle; it wasn't so much threats to their existence that worried the wizards, so much as their comfortable way of life. Fifteen Dark Lords coming to power failed to shake them from their path, even when it was said path that created the circumstances for which the Dark Lords could establish themselves.

The Second Great War had left so many dead, and so many injured, it had taken almost all of Dumbledore's willpower to bring himself back together afterwards. Even then, the injuries from the war weren't always physical, and not always easily noticeable. Two decades had passed while he served as Transfiguration Professor under the willfully obtuse and ignorant Headmaster Dippet before he stopped looking out his bedroom window every morning in search of Zeppelins on the horizon, and another decade before he finally realized just what young Tom Riddle had become. It should have been obvious, but he was so used to the enemy being up front about his intentions, as villainous as they were, that he failed to notice the more subtle threat growing beneath his nose. By the time he finally came to understand just what a threat the young wizard was the opportunity of doing something to stop him had passed, Mr. Riddle vanishing into the mists of time and obscurity, just another name for a face no-one would remember.

It would be many long years, enough that Dumbledore had almost written his suspicions off as a mere flight of fancy, until Riddle returned, using the nom-de-guerre that he had once used while he was young. It was by sheer happenstance that Dumbledore had stumbled across one of Riddle's old essays while sorting through his paperwork, and hidden within the pages the name that he had taken to using as he championed his dark cause. The war that ensued had left even more scars and had drained Dumbledore of what little energy he had left; now it took him all his effort and focus to keep a handle on his positions, positions that were invaluable to the survival of Wizarding England. If wasn't for him, he had no idea just what measures and laws the corrupt and inept Ministry would have passed, or what retaliation the International community would have sought after Voldemort brought his war to Europe's shores.

By the time Voldemort had finally been stopped, the death toll had reached a monument level, and only Dumbledore's use of the recently orphaned Harry Potter kept it from climbing even higher. It caused him no small amount of pain to use the boy like that, especially when, after having taken the time to investigate things more thoroughly, it was his mother's last actions that had prevented Harry's death, not some power of his own because of some blasted prophecy Where she had found whatever ritual she had used, Dumbledore would likely never know, and he was satisfied with that. His analysis of the scene of Voldemort's defeat had revealed that young Lily Potter had someone managed to forge a Mystical Contract with Gaia, somehow making it so that Harry's continuing survival would be _the_ reality, and that anything working in opposition to that would have to fight against Gaia to succeed. Suffice to say, it was the most powerful pieces of magic Dumbledore had ever seen, and he had worked with some of the greatest magic users in the entire world.

It was all he could do to make sure the boy was placed somewhere protected from those who would wish him harm, and he dearly regretted never checking up on the boy over the years. He had the reports from Ms. Figg and his other watchers he had posted in Little Whinging, and after having them take a closer look and pay more attention the year after his fifth birthday he was about ready to intervene, only for things to completely turn around almost over night. His watchers had alerted him to the presence of an identified wizard of tremendous power, and upon arriving he had been stunned to find himself face to face with one of the true living legends of the world. The long discussion that ensued on that cold summer night had brought to light a startling number of things that Dumbledore had not been aware of, and it was with his reluctant blessing that he put Harry into _that _man's hands.

Soon he would be able to finally decide if he had made the right choice all those years ago in letting _him _assume an unknowing mentorship of the young Harry Potter. And of course there were also the _other _students with their own patrons that he had to worry about. It honestly made him wonder sometimes why he hadn't retired already. Oh, that's right, because if he wasn't around then who knows what kinds of things the Board of Governors would push to be taught. At least he had finally managed to find a replacement for Professor Binns, even if she was one of _them._ The thrice-damned High Council of the International Magic Association. If the ICW was to the magical realm what the United Nations was to the mundane world, then the IMA was the magical equivalent of NATO, the combined military coalition of nearly every major magical nation against those that would abuse their gifts. Each and every one of the High Council members, of which he was not, possessed capabilities magnitudes greater than his own, each one capable of standing against Merlin in his prime, with every likelihood of their success.

And their students, knowing or unknowing of their status, were coming to Hogwarts. It was almost enough to make him go crawling back to his brother on his knees, just so he could get access to his collection of Fire Whiskey. Of course he had his pride and dignity, but damn him if it wasn't a close call. Well, at the very least he could still look forward to making everyone at the feast think he'd gone senile, so that was something. Of course, getting Flamel to produce a knock-off of his famous stone to use as bait for a threat Dumbledore wasn't entirely sure actually existed wasn't the most sane thing to do, so they might not be too far off. Well, he'd enjoy it anyway, who know's, maybe this year wouldn't be a total nightmare.

He could hope, right?

* * *

Links to appearances will be posted in my profile. If you want to see what Feiya, Seoni, Tracey/Setsuna (though she should be familiar), and the other's appear like, then check out the links.

* * *

Heh, heheheheheheheehhehehehehehehehehehehehehehehehehe , heh. Well, Harry was certainly inspired by Loki, and I was inspired by several other fics, as well as the ever center of my mind Ranma. I know its irritating, but, it's sooooo much fun! Don't worry too much though, Harry will be a dude for about 85 percent of the story. You can relax, it isn't going to be a Harry-chan fic.

Tonks' initial appearance, with the blonde hair, is a tribute to another author's story, no I will not tell you which one it is for those who don't know. You want to find out, go search for it yourself. And yes, Tracey is _her_ granddaughter. Before you say, "Impossible!", let me just state this: she had fifteen _thousand _years on her own, so yeah, I figure she had a child or two while she awaited the reincarnation of her friends. The forms Tonks and Harry take on are from the Pathfinder RPG, and are two of the series' Iconic characters.

* * *

Here's a little teaser scene for waaaay on down the line.

"Now it is time for the Second Task! Champions, ready! Begin!" Harry watched quietly as the other three Champions dove in immediately, pausing only briefly to cast whatever spells they needed before disappearing beneath the surface. Instead of leaping in, Harry slowly lowered himself off the edge of the platform, swimming a meter or so away before stopping and turning to the curious officials.

"Professor," he stared Dumbledore straight in the eye and the old wizard felt a shiver of trepidation run down his spine. "I need you to make sure that everyone is a safe distance away from me. I'm not sure how much control I will have."

Dumbledore gave Harry a curious look as the other Headmasters turned to watch the exchange. The crowd, having stopped cheering once the other champions had disappeared, were also watching, though they could not hear what was being said.

"Control over what my boy?" Instead of answering Harry merely grinned and began to chant in a strange language foreign to the ears of the audience, though hauntingly familiar to one of the Headmasters. The moment he had begun to recite the incantation, Dumbledore _moved_. There could be no other word for it. It was no Apparition, nor was there any in between. He simply traveled from one position to another in the blink of an eye. He grabbed the shoulders of his fellow Headmasters, or at least Madame Maxine's elbow, and Apparated away. Those remaining on the platform gave the eccentric wizard's panicked actions a moment of though before evacuating themselves.

On the shore, Karkaroff broke free from Dumbledore's grasp and turned to unleash a brutal tirade on him, only to stop at the look of fear in the aged Headmaster's eyes, eyes that were focused on something beyond him. Karkaroff frowned and looked back to the lake, only years of hiding his emotions keeping him openly shouting in surprise.

Harry had finished the incantation and immediately the spell had begun its work on him. His body began to bulge grotesquely as muscles bunched and shifted, his skin stretching sickly to cover his frame as his mass began to increase, starting slowly but becoming exponentially faster. Dumbledore had looked away the moment he was sure that he could afford to. Though the end result was likely to be far different, considering the resources the boy seemed to have and the variations in the incantation, he had seen a variation of the spell used to great effect during the war against Grindlewald. he could already hear members of the audience gasping in shock or retching in disgust. The actual transformation was almost more horrible than the final result, and the shock the spell caused had resulted in more than a few veteran wizards dying as they froze up during the war.

Far away from Dumbledore and his distant thoughts, the transformation continued on unabated. Harry's body had already become close in size to that of Hagrid, and the area around his torso seemed to be ringed by large growths of flesh. Then, with a tremendous roar that reached down to the most primal base of the people watching, the true nature of the spell was revealed, as the growths burst to reveal a ring of slavering wolf heads, snapping and snarling at anything nearby. Harry's leg split into several large limbs that quickly grew longer, shifting until they became thick crimson skinned tentacles. Harry's upper body changed as well, aging several years as his hair grew into great thick mass of matted black that covered reached beyond the wolves that ringed his torso. Some of the hair fell over his chest, though not enough to disguise the additional growths that evidenced the change in gender the transformation had brought forth.

With shriek of terrible, bone-shilling laughter, the monstrosity that Harry had become dived beneath the waves, the water moving around her and allowing her movement without even a splash. Above the surface of the lake all was silent as the audience and officials tried to take in what had just occurred. They had all been aware that Harry was much more powerful than the average wizard, as indicated by his performance during the first task, but what they had just seen, it bordered on the impossible. Only those who studied the old myths knew exactly what Harry had become, and as the name rolled off their tongues, it spread in a hushed whispering wave through the crowd. It was the name for a monstrosity that had haunted sailors for millennia until it had been driven away, and legends told that it still lurked somewhere in the deepest, darkest parts of the ocean.

"Scylla."

* * *

Yes, Harry is gonna be one badass dude. I assure you of that.

Here is the main character and class breakdown, as prompted by my beta. Also a link to where you can find all the stats for all the classes, just remove the spaces:** www. d20pfsrd. com**

Harry - Sorcerer (? Bloodline) + Monk multi-class. Lvl. 3  
Tonks - Winter Witch (Pathfinder Rpg) Lvl. 5  
Hannah Abbot - Cleric of Hecate Lvl. 1  
Susan Bones - Alchemist (Pathfinder Rpg) Lvl. 2  
Daphne Greengrass - Druid Lvl. 2  
Tracey Davis - Oracle (of Time. Pathfinder Rpg) Lvl. 2  
Su Li - Ninja (Pathfinder variant Rogue) Lvl. 3  
Blaise Zabini - Magus (Pathfinder melee caster) Lvl. 2

So, while the party is a bit mage heavy, it has enough firepower in D&D terms to slam through just about anything short of a major boss at their equivalent level, as well as balanced enough that they can't be taken out by one type of enemy or another. In comparison, here are the secondary, and yet to arrive characters list.

Dumbledore - Wizard + Archmage (D&D prestige class) Lvl. 25  
Voldemort - Wizard + Warlock (D&D class) Lvl. 19  
Sirius - Wizard Lvl. 10  
McGonagall - Transmuter (specialist Wizard Pathfinder Rpg) Lvl. 14  
Flitwick - Evoker (As previous) Lvl. 15  
Snape - Wizard Lvl. 13  
Quirell(without help) - Wizard Lvl. 9  
Quirell (with help) - Wizard Lvl. 14  
Lockhart - Wizard Lvl. 6 (On his best day, most of the time, Lvl. 4)

And lastly: Basilisk - Mystic Eyed Serpent Demi-god - Challenge Rating: 21 and Fawkes - Immortal Phoenix - Challenge Rating: 19

So you can see that individually, and even as a group, the party simply can't match most of the bigger enemies, though they are still only in their first year. But they can totally pawn Lockhart. Totally. Tonks could ice him on her own at this point. And I find that greatly amusing.

And for those who follow my other stories, the next chapter of A Kitsune in Nerima is already complete. After that I should be able to start working on the next Touch of Time chapter. You can check out my profile for updates on progress at any time.


End file.
